


bad moon on the rise

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Oakland Athletics, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-02
Updated: 2005-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bad things happen under the full moon.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad moon on the rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayrdaomei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayrdaomei/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/drain_bamage/47518.html).
> 
> It was originally titled _Chiaroscuro_ , but I had forgotten I wrote something else with that title so I changed it to "Full Moon." Then I changed it to a lyric from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

They go to a bar in Arizona during Spring Training, some place that Chavez has been to before that Swisher has never before visited. They order bloody Marys and dishes of peanuts that a million hands have touched before them. Thank Scott Hatteberg for that little tidbit.

Swisher, the rookie, is sitting with Harden and Street but crosses his arms over his chest, and separates himself from their discussion about situational ethics and the legalization of marijuana. Swisher checks out the girls at the bar. All of them are tanned and toned, and beautiful.

Which would be perfect, were Swisher straight.

Chavez is sitting off to himself beside a Ms. Pacman, sipping a martini and licking around the rim. He's tapping his wedding band on the tabletop, it's making this _click-click-click_ sound that's driving Swisher up the fucking wall, so he goes over and pulls up a chair.

"What's up?"

Chavez stops tapping his ring. "Nothin' much. How 'bout you?" 

"Wondering why you're lurking in the dark being Mr. Anti-Social," Swisher says, tilting his head to one side, studying Chavez, the shadows pooling in the valley under his adam's apple. 

"I don't feel like boozing with everybody else?" Chavez sips his martini and taps his ring on the glass.

Swisher is sure. So he taps his index finger on the face of Chavez's expensive Bulgari watch, some watch the team gave him for meeting incentives in his contract. "Wanna go outside and hang out? We can loiter and smoke cigs and look all badass and stuff."

Chavez shrugs his shoulders. "Sure, but I don't smoke."

"That's okay, I can smoke one in your honor." Swisher fishes a crumpled pack of Virginia Slims out of his back pocket and motions to Chavez to follow him.

Chavez does, and Swisher leads him to the alley behind the bar, littered with wet leaves and cigarette butts and other peoples' trash. Swisher toes away an accordioned 7-11 Big Gulp cup and lights up a cigarette. Chavez leans against the red brick wall and tilts back his head. Swisher finds himself studying his neck now.

"You know smoking is bad for you, rook? There's a clause against it in your contract, by the way."

"Whatever. I'll stop before the season starts." Swisher takes a drag, sucking in his cheeks, before letting his arm drop to his side, flicking the ashes to the so-wet-it's-pitch-black concrete.

Chavez looks up at the sky. "Full moon tonight." he says, quiet and not his normal self. "Bad things happen when the moon is full."

"That's only crazy superstition." Swisher takes another drag of his cigarette and leans against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Chavez. He looks at Chavez's profile silhouetted in silver by the moonlight, and wonders how anything bad could happen under _this_ full moon.

"Maybe, maybe not. We lost to the Red Sox under a full moon," and now Chavez is talking about things that happened before Swisher got up to the Majors, so he stops listening. He watches the way Chavez's lips move, the way they curl around the word "moon", the way they part for "full". 

Swisher is sure about Chavez now, surer than sure, how could he not be. Living with Mulder when he could have bought a place of his own? The way his wrists move when he is using his hands to animate his conversations? The way his lips part? 

Swisher throws caution to the wind, to the full moon, and presses his hands against Chavez's shoulders, pushing him against the brick wall, slides his lips over Chavez's.

Chavez goes perfectly still, and for a second Swisher thinks he is going to kiss him back before Chavez pushes him away. "Don't. What the fuck." He blinks, and his eyes seem so black and nebulous that Swisher is afraid he could get lost in them.

"I thought you. I mean, I just thought you were. I mean, you just seem like you're. You know." Swisher steps back, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, wishing for a pit to open up in the earth to come and swallow him whole.

Chavez brushes his mouth against the back of his hand, blinking. "I told you bad things always happen under the full moon."

And he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
